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The waitress arrived, and I ordered a beer. I unbuttoned my jacket and sat down.
“You’re looking pretty smooth,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit during the day.”
I touched the slim lapel. “Mother insisted I suit up.”
His mouth twitched into a half-smile before reverting to seriousness again as the waitress delivered our drinks. “I spoke to the police. The forensic report’s in.”
I sat up straight and took a long slug of my beer. “And?”
He stared at me for a moment without blinking and my spine chilled. “It’s suspicious.”
“Fuck.” I stared into space for a moment, a million questions banking up. “What did they say exactly?”
“That he had drugs in his system.”
“Okay. But maybe he was imbibing?”
“Rohypnol and whisky.”
“Shit. Date rape drug,” I said.
“He was strangled, as you know.”
The beer gurgled among the knots in my stomach. “Someone did this on purpose? Or a date gone wrong? What’s Luke’s story in all of this?”
Declan exhaled. “Questions I asked that remain unanswered.”
“Crisp,” I said. “It’s a no-fucking-brainer. Dad didn’t want that development, and now they’re moving ahead. Did you at least mention Crisp’s interest?”
“His name came up straight away. The detective got back to me on that. The prick’s got a fucking solid alibi.”
“A hitman?”
“Probably,” he said.
We sat in silence for a moment, my head swimming. “Does Savvie know?”
“Not yet. Let’s keep it quiet for tonight.”
“That’s a sound plan.” My fingers gripped my glass. “Crisp’s not that stupid to stoop to a hitman.”
“I don’t know about that. If it’s a sophisticated job, then it won’t lead back to him, will it?”
“But everyone will guess. He’ll be ostracised.”
“You know that scene: once they develop and the glamour that comes with running a five-star resort, everyone will become his lap dog. They won’t give a rat’s arse about anything.”
My body slumped in frustration. “We’re not going to leave any fucking stone unturned, are we?”
He shook his head slowly. “No, we’re not.”
Three hours later, after hearing about the considerable portfolio of assets owned by the family, I jumped into a cab and headed for the Green Room, weighed down with an extra two billion pounds—money that I could either invest or flit away. I knew my father would want me to use this money to not only improve my financial situation, but also to help others, starting with the Newmans.
The cab dropped me off on a busy strip, where colourful types bounced along, embracing their individuality. In my Armani suit, I probably looked like I’d ended up at the wrong end of town.
I stepped through a glossy green door, which was unattended by bouncers. From what I could see in the bar’s mood lighting, everyone seemed friendly and probably unlikely to cause a drunken stir.
In the corner, a frameless piano stood as a sculpture, and the place smelt of stale beer, sweat, and cheap perfume.
